84th of Frost, 119th of Steel
The Trail to Freedom, Part I
Leliana was earlier to rise the next morning--even earlier than her father this time. She'd had too much on her mind last night thinking about her brother and his family. What were they like? Would they welcome her readily? Would they even get along? Her thoughts were racing as she went about some of the morning chores. First she checked on the pack horse, taking him down the creek for a long drink before returning him to graze.
His picket had to be moved again to a fresh spot but after that he seemed content enough to ignore her. It wasn't the best time of year for grazing, but he was making due. Once he was situated Lily returned to the fire to warm herself. Not long after she could feel her fingers again her father emerged from his tent.
"Good morning," he greeted her, which she mirrored. Arangyl joined her by the fire and poured some water into a tin to hang over the low flames. She added some kindling to the coals, but they were nearly out.
"When will we be going?" she asked after the water began to bubble.
"Not until afternoon."
"What? Why?"
"There's something I'd like to do with you this morning. Let me have my tea and we can begin."
"Okay..." Curiosity made her immediately impatient, but she didn't fuss as he poured the hot liquid into his cup and added some leaves to brew.
"Would you like some?"
"Might as well," she obliged with a shrug and he carefully poured a second cup.
She tested it once but immediately balked at the heat. Leliana blew on the tea's surface until it finally cooled, then drank with her father in relative silence. Once they had finished he added the rest of the fuel to their fire and rose to his feet, beckoning her to follow after reaching into his tent for a long scabbard. They walked past the trees and into another nearby clearing. Their camp and pack horse were still in sight, but it felt more private somehow.
Arangyl turned to face her and held the weapon out. It was heavy but comfortable in her hands. She pulled the hilt and freed the blade from its covering, producing a rather plain but seemingly well-made longsword. Her father produced his own out of thin air with a flourish and brief shimmer of light. It was elegant and wicked looking.
"How did you--?"
"A form of magic called Reaving. I may teach you more about it later. Have you ever used a sword before?"
"A practice sword, when I was younger."
"So no," he translated bluntly. Leliana pursed her lips. "Don't worry, I'd rather you have no experience at all than a host of bad habits that are hard to break. I'm going to start teaching you how to defend yourself. If we get separated somehow, I need to know that you can handle yourself."
Leliana looked down at the sword in her hands. She put the scabbard down and lay the flat of the blade across her palm.
"This particular one is a longsword. The longer hilt there allows it to be used comfortably with one hand or two. It doesn't excel with one method more than the other, but wielded by the right person can be immensely versatile. Claymores and other long weapons are almost impossible to wield with a single hand unless someone is incredibly strong."
Her father made a slow demonstration of spinning his blade in one hand and two hands, arcing it over each shoulder with a careful flourish. She had no doubt the speed at which he moved was purely for her own sake.
"Shortswords are smaller than a longsword with a shorter hilt that is best used single-handed. I've always been partial to the versatility of the longsword, so this is what I'm going to teach you how to use. If you decide you wish to learn something else, we can do so later."
Arangyl began to pace casually, showing her different movements as he spoke.
"There are many ways to parry, strike, block--all manner of counters and methods to overtake an opponent. You must remember to always remain relaxed. Never hold your sword too tightly or too loose. Use the weight of the weapon to help carry out the desired task. A well-balanced sword should move fluidly in your hands, like an extension of your arm. The elbows must never be locked. Most of your strength will come from your core and chest, not your arms."
He turned to face her.
"I want you to strike me however feels best to you--" Leliana immediately went forward with a downward two-handed swing. Her father stumbled backward as he lifted his blade to parry. "What in the Gods' names was that?!" he roared once he'd straightened himself.
"Element of surprise?" she offered sheepishly and he huffed, combing a hand through his long white hair.
"How about you strike with real purpose? Don't just flail around and hope to hit something. Try again--truly this time. Square yourself--no--feet roughly shoulder width apart for balance. Better. Don't lock your legs. Bend slightly at the knees, like this. Make sure your shoulders and elbows are relax but still controlled. Now strike me."
Leliana brought her sword down again and he lifted his, connecting easily and pushing her strike to the side.
"Much better."
"It feels like I'm going to drop it."
"It takes practice... years of practice. You have to become accustomed to the extra weight you're swinging around, and compensate for that. It isn't a simple thing to do. Let us continue. Strike me again. Try different things."
The half-breed carefully swung the sword at different angles, testing the weight of the blade, adjusting her grip here and there. Her father met each strike with his own, rebounding her, switching angles frequently.
"Try to move your feet. Standing still in a fight is the quickest way to end up dead. That's it, walk towards me, around me, away from me. Try different positions, but always attempt to keep moving."
Leliana pressed forward, walking carefully through the grass as she continued to manipulate the blade. Arangyl retreated casually, parrying each strike with obvious ease. Suddenly he started to flank her, and she turned to keep him in front.
"Good. Always follow your opponent. I'm going to strike you now, but I'll move slowly. I want you to block each of my attacks."
Her definition of slow was obviously different from his. When their swords met above her head she thought it could knock the weapon from her hands. He struck again immediately, jarring her arms and shoulders.
"Stay loose and relaxed! You're concentrating too hard on hanging onto the sword that you're holding too tightly. Quick, from the side." His sword came back in a wide arc toward her rips and he stumbled back, slapping his weapon away with the belly of her blade. "Watch your footing," he warned.
It went on like that for some time. He would command an attack, then reply with his own. They circled each other restlessly, her trying to keep up while he nary broke a sweat. The sun was fully above the trees when he finally called for her to halt. Leliana stopped immediately, relieved and thoroughly exhausted. Sweat plastered her shirt to her back, dripped down her nose, and matted her hair to her forehead. The cool wind made her shiver as it brushed her wet skin.
"You did well. Your stiffness improved some. Let's stop for now, I don't want you to catch a chill. We'll rest a short time then break camp and continue down the road." With a quick flourish and visible wince his sword disappeared.
"Are you okay?" He picked up the scabbard for her blade and handed it to her.
"Yes of course. Some mild discomfort. One of the downsides of magic."
Leliana carefully returned her sword back to its casing and slipped the belt onto her shoulder. He allowed her to rest by the fire a while as he packed his things, but eventually they had to be on the move again. After a brief lunch she broke down her tent and helped stow everything away into the horse's pack saddle, then they were off once more down the trail.
"How many magics do you know?" she inquired after they'd put some distance between themselves and last night's camp.
"Only the two. Reaving and Transposition. I can't imagine myself going through the initiation of a third. It's an incredibly unpleasant and dangerous process."
"And you subjected yourself to it twice?"
"The pros usually significantly outweigh the cons, some of which you've seen firsthand." That was true. One of his portals was the reason she was currently here and not back at the Big House.
"Can you teach me?" He stopped and turned, face stern and brows furrowed.
"I don't think you understand what you're asking me to do."
"Teach me magic?"
"Put your life at risk."
"My life has always been at risk. It still is."
"I'm not going to discuss this with you. I won't subject you to something that could so easily kill you. Don't ask me again."
He turned and continued walking, stepping carefully over some tumbled stone on the ascending mountain trail. Leliana would drop the topic for now, but she was too curious. It wouldn't be the last time she brought it up--and she had a feeling he knew that too.
The Trail to Freedom, Part III
The Trail to Freedom, Part I
Leliana was earlier to rise the next morning--even earlier than her father this time. She'd had too much on her mind last night thinking about her brother and his family. What were they like? Would they welcome her readily? Would they even get along? Her thoughts were racing as she went about some of the morning chores. First she checked on the pack horse, taking him down the creek for a long drink before returning him to graze.
His picket had to be moved again to a fresh spot but after that he seemed content enough to ignore her. It wasn't the best time of year for grazing, but he was making due. Once he was situated Lily returned to the fire to warm herself. Not long after she could feel her fingers again her father emerged from his tent.
"Good morning," he greeted her, which she mirrored. Arangyl joined her by the fire and poured some water into a tin to hang over the low flames. She added some kindling to the coals, but they were nearly out.
"When will we be going?" she asked after the water began to bubble.
"Not until afternoon."
"What? Why?"
"There's something I'd like to do with you this morning. Let me have my tea and we can begin."
"Okay..." Curiosity made her immediately impatient, but she didn't fuss as he poured the hot liquid into his cup and added some leaves to brew.
"Would you like some?"
"Might as well," she obliged with a shrug and he carefully poured a second cup.
She tested it once but immediately balked at the heat. Leliana blew on the tea's surface until it finally cooled, then drank with her father in relative silence. Once they had finished he added the rest of the fuel to their fire and rose to his feet, beckoning her to follow after reaching into his tent for a long scabbard. They walked past the trees and into another nearby clearing. Their camp and pack horse were still in sight, but it felt more private somehow.
Arangyl turned to face her and held the weapon out. It was heavy but comfortable in her hands. She pulled the hilt and freed the blade from its covering, producing a rather plain but seemingly well-made longsword. Her father produced his own out of thin air with a flourish and brief shimmer of light. It was elegant and wicked looking.
"How did you--?"
"A form of magic called Reaving. I may teach you more about it later. Have you ever used a sword before?"
"A practice sword, when I was younger."
"So no," he translated bluntly. Leliana pursed her lips. "Don't worry, I'd rather you have no experience at all than a host of bad habits that are hard to break. I'm going to start teaching you how to defend yourself. If we get separated somehow, I need to know that you can handle yourself."
Leliana looked down at the sword in her hands. She put the scabbard down and lay the flat of the blade across her palm.
"This particular one is a longsword. The longer hilt there allows it to be used comfortably with one hand or two. It doesn't excel with one method more than the other, but wielded by the right person can be immensely versatile. Claymores and other long weapons are almost impossible to wield with a single hand unless someone is incredibly strong."
Her father made a slow demonstration of spinning his blade in one hand and two hands, arcing it over each shoulder with a careful flourish. She had no doubt the speed at which he moved was purely for her own sake.
"Shortswords are smaller than a longsword with a shorter hilt that is best used single-handed. I've always been partial to the versatility of the longsword, so this is what I'm going to teach you how to use. If you decide you wish to learn something else, we can do so later."
Arangyl began to pace casually, showing her different movements as he spoke.
"There are many ways to parry, strike, block--all manner of counters and methods to overtake an opponent. You must remember to always remain relaxed. Never hold your sword too tightly or too loose. Use the weight of the weapon to help carry out the desired task. A well-balanced sword should move fluidly in your hands, like an extension of your arm. The elbows must never be locked. Most of your strength will come from your core and chest, not your arms."
He turned to face her.
"I want you to strike me however feels best to you--" Leliana immediately went forward with a downward two-handed swing. Her father stumbled backward as he lifted his blade to parry. "What in the Gods' names was that?!" he roared once he'd straightened himself.
"Element of surprise?" she offered sheepishly and he huffed, combing a hand through his long white hair.
"How about you strike with real purpose? Don't just flail around and hope to hit something. Try again--truly this time. Square yourself--no--feet roughly shoulder width apart for balance. Better. Don't lock your legs. Bend slightly at the knees, like this. Make sure your shoulders and elbows are relax but still controlled. Now strike me."
Leliana brought her sword down again and he lifted his, connecting easily and pushing her strike to the side.
"Much better."
"It feels like I'm going to drop it."
"It takes practice... years of practice. You have to become accustomed to the extra weight you're swinging around, and compensate for that. It isn't a simple thing to do. Let us continue. Strike me again. Try different things."
The half-breed carefully swung the sword at different angles, testing the weight of the blade, adjusting her grip here and there. Her father met each strike with his own, rebounding her, switching angles frequently.
"Try to move your feet. Standing still in a fight is the quickest way to end up dead. That's it, walk towards me, around me, away from me. Try different positions, but always attempt to keep moving."
Leliana pressed forward, walking carefully through the grass as she continued to manipulate the blade. Arangyl retreated casually, parrying each strike with obvious ease. Suddenly he started to flank her, and she turned to keep him in front.
"Good. Always follow your opponent. I'm going to strike you now, but I'll move slowly. I want you to block each of my attacks."
Her definition of slow was obviously different from his. When their swords met above her head she thought it could knock the weapon from her hands. He struck again immediately, jarring her arms and shoulders.
"Stay loose and relaxed! You're concentrating too hard on hanging onto the sword that you're holding too tightly. Quick, from the side." His sword came back in a wide arc toward her rips and he stumbled back, slapping his weapon away with the belly of her blade. "Watch your footing," he warned.
It went on like that for some time. He would command an attack, then reply with his own. They circled each other restlessly, her trying to keep up while he nary broke a sweat. The sun was fully above the trees when he finally called for her to halt. Leliana stopped immediately, relieved and thoroughly exhausted. Sweat plastered her shirt to her back, dripped down her nose, and matted her hair to her forehead. The cool wind made her shiver as it brushed her wet skin.
"You did well. Your stiffness improved some. Let's stop for now, I don't want you to catch a chill. We'll rest a short time then break camp and continue down the road." With a quick flourish and visible wince his sword disappeared.
"Are you okay?" He picked up the scabbard for her blade and handed it to her.
"Yes of course. Some mild discomfort. One of the downsides of magic."
Leliana carefully returned her sword back to its casing and slipped the belt onto her shoulder. He allowed her to rest by the fire a while as he packed his things, but eventually they had to be on the move again. After a brief lunch she broke down her tent and helped stow everything away into the horse's pack saddle, then they were off once more down the trail.
"How many magics do you know?" she inquired after they'd put some distance between themselves and last night's camp.
"Only the two. Reaving and Transposition. I can't imagine myself going through the initiation of a third. It's an incredibly unpleasant and dangerous process."
"And you subjected yourself to it twice?"
"The pros usually significantly outweigh the cons, some of which you've seen firsthand." That was true. One of his portals was the reason she was currently here and not back at the Big House.
"Can you teach me?" He stopped and turned, face stern and brows furrowed.
"I don't think you understand what you're asking me to do."
"Teach me magic?"
"Put your life at risk."
"My life has always been at risk. It still is."
"I'm not going to discuss this with you. I won't subject you to something that could so easily kill you. Don't ask me again."
He turned and continued walking, stepping carefully over some tumbled stone on the ascending mountain trail. Leliana would drop the topic for now, but she was too curious. It wouldn't be the last time she brought it up--and she had a feeling he knew that too.
The Trail to Freedom, Part III
